


Aoife: Nightmare

by Tress13



Series: Aoife Verd Stories [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death In Dream, Dreams, Homebrew Content, I'm not sure if the violence counts as "graphic" but I would rather be safe about warning for things, Multi, Nightmares, Violence in Dream, barovia-homebrew mix, there is violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tress13/pseuds/Tress13
Summary: Aoife had hoped that her nightmares would fade with the dissipating mists of Barovia; that putting distance between herself and the terrors they had faced there would cause the bad dreams to disappear.Aoife had hoped in vain.
Series: Aoife Verd Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468438





	Aoife: Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a campaign that mixed "Curse of Strahd" and homebrew elements.  
> Warning: character death in dreams, violence in dreams

Aoife had hoped that her nightmares would fade with the dissipating mists of Barovia; that putting distance between herself and the terrors they had faced there would cause the bad dreams to disappear.  
Aoife had hoped in vain.  
The bad dreams and restless sleep that had plagued her had not left even once the mists of Barovia were far behind them.

The content of Aoife’s nightmares, however, had changed.  
The dreams that Strahd used to terrorize and harass the group had, thankfully, ended with his death.  
Aoife’s dreams of her nephew faceless or lost had also stopped as soon as she visited Enok in one of her dream spells.  
Those specific nightmares may have ended, but other lingering memories of the horrors of Barovia persisted and haunted Aoife’s dreams. Those memories were joined by anxieties of looming future terrors.  
The memories and anxieties were enough to create a lifetime of nightmares; the worst moments and fears twisted into prolonged and torturous ordeals.

Some nights Aoife dreamed that she was still trapped in Barovia. She dreamed that she was trapped by herself, alone and afraid.  
She tried to leave, tried to call out to her friends or family, but the mist surrounded her - cold, choking, and grasping in a way real mist could never be - and smothered her voice in her throat.  
She ran towards dark, shadowy outlines - both dreaded and hoped to find a friendly face and was disappointed every time - a horrible laughter stalked her steps as she ran.  
Aoife’s silenced shouts turned into soundless screams as she became more frantic, and then weakened to sobs.  
The distant outline of Ravenloft remained ever present through the mist.

Even worse were the dreams in which her friends and family were unable to escape Barovia.  
In dreams, Aoife watched as her friend’s hopes of being reunited with their loved ones faded to despair. . .  
Ireena was endlessly hounded to the edges of the all too small country. . .  
Kazimir’s will was totally broken piece by piece until he disappeared to the Amber Temple one day and this time nothing would convince him. . .

Most frequently Aoife dreamed of the final battle against Strahd.  
Her memories of seeing one friend dead, other loved ones in danger, and fears for the future merged to create scenarios that never happened during that fight.

In the nightmares Aoife changed shape, but instead of turning into an earth elemental she was slowly petrified. Her movements became slow and cumbersome, her breath ached, and she was useless and unable to help anyone.  
Dream Aoife watched as her friends fell:

Hestia bled out too quickly - Iddra, Moon, and herself too far away - from an arrow wound; the determined light in her eyes faded. Blood and a strange blighted ichor pooled around the arrow and stained her white shirt. The trails of gore moved strangely on their own, appearing as writhing tendrils that wrapped around Hestia’s limbs and throat, a bloody parody of what Aoife had seen through scry.

Ezmerelda, enraged, threw herself at the remaining hordes of undead, channeled her grief into fierce and devastating attacks. For awhile it seemed that she could hold off the enemy forever, but eventually the injuries and stress of battle in the face of tireless undead took its toll. She eventually was overtaken by the swarm of enemies, torn apart and cut down only feet away from her wife’s lifeless body.

Ivy was so nimble and quiet. She was always quick enough to get away in the nick of time. . .until she wasn’t.  
Ivy flew back and away from the horde and Strahd’s range on the broom; distracted for a single moment she was hit with a sickly green ray of light. Ivy fell and remained deathly still.

Makda and Ireena fought side by side; each protective and unyielding.  
Makda was a strong and bright figure in the battle, until they suddenly went still.   
Makda’s eyes glazed over as they fell prone; the embers and smoke of their hair doused as they floated face up and seemingly dead in the water. Their shallow breathing the only sign that they weren’t dead . . . but they weren’t _there_ either. A twisted memory of being underneath Vallaki; guilt and terror welled up within Aoife. Ireena lost all composure and let out a heartrending scream, she attacked wildly even as Strahd laughed patronizingly before ensnaring Ireena in vampiric compulsion.  
Aoife felt ill.

Saveen was crushed to death by the strange blighted creature that Strahd became.  
His last words broken to the point of being impossible to understand over the horrible sound of his ribs cracking and caving in. His gaze remained on Iddra till the last moment.  
Iddra in her brilliant anger charged Strahd, but her own life force was slowly chipped away till both lovers lay in pools of blood and gore.

Kazimir … Kazimir was not as she remembered him in the fight. He looked strange- frightening and wrong. His body changed, almost appearing dead himself and wreathed in strange power.  
Dream Aoife knew he had accepted dark pacts in exchange for power at the Amber Temple. That in the end nothing Aoife or anyone else had said mattered.  
It tore at Aoife’s heart to see him like that, to know she hadn’t reached him.

Sweet, funny, kind Largen was unfortunately exactly as Aoife remembered during the fight - a surprisingly familiar face that was now dead, decaying, and turned into a mindless undead minion.

Sometimes Von Richton was inexplicably present in these dreams.  
His undead form blighted and mangled horribly - terribly torn scars from Aoife’s thorns should have healed but in the dream remained present. He attacked Ezmerelda and Ireena while both remained alive and themselves.  
Several voices in Aoife’s head hissed that if she had just dealt with the issue, if she had just acted quicker, more decisively, this could have been avoided.  
Other voices tore into her for her arrogance, for not healing him when she could have - perhaps he wouldn’t have succumbed to blight if she had just acted with better judgment.

People who had never been dragged to Barovia would suddenly appear in her dreams - fallen to strange and horrible fates that never happened, were never a possibility.

Some part of her mind knew logically that Kerth and Aiona were both formidable opponents, but the image of them slain in battle became a recurring vision in her dreams.  
Kerth speared through by rusted javelins as they guarded Aiona’s back.  
Aiona injured out of a wildshape, and beyond logic being overcome and torn apart before she could take another form.

Ylva’s voice would cry out, as she suddenly appeared and ran towards her brother. Overcome with anguish she stumbled and was unable to defend herself as the undead turned towards her. Her screams of grief turning to pain and then awful silence.

Her family would appear one by one - Mom, Da, Gran, Solvi, Acantha - each slain while Aoife remained practically motionless and unable to help.  
Their blood pooling around Aoife as she felt bile rise in her throat.  
She could hear little Enok crying, screaming, _shrieking_ … until his voice also fell silent.

In the dreams Aoife felt another zombie come and start tearing into her petrified form. Her final movement was the smallest turn of her head to see it was Lonan attacking her.  
Her brother - steadfast, calm, thoughtful Lonan - wan now an undead minion.  
The voices in Aoife’s head joined into a single chant of blame as the undead tore at her stone body.  
Dream Aoife felt her form crumble and break.

She was breaking …

 _She was breaking_ …

 _Breaking_ …


End file.
